


Phosphorescence

by Noelleon



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Bondage, Collars, Dream Sex, F/M, Kink Meme, Leashes, Light BDSM, Magic, Masochism, Other, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelleon/pseuds/Noelleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>F!Hawke did always want that threesome.  But when Justice shows his (rather dominant) romantic side, Anders gets jealous.  The question is, which one is he jealous of?</p><p>-- Though this work is finished, I have been thinking of tacking on an epilogue for those who can't stand not knowing what happens next.  We'll see!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreaming of Desire

He wasn't even aware of it when he began to fall for her. The emotion so far removed from his nature, he'd only known of it secondhand. Old memories -- a dead man's memories were all he had to go by, and they were pale in comparison to the living dreams that now haunted them both. When he did become aware, he tried to tell himself that this was yet another of those odd sensations that Anders shared between them. He was just feeling Anders' infatuation for her, not his own. If it was a lie, it was an easy lie, and one made only to himself.

She was a painful distraction, he thought. The way that Anders would think of her throughout sleepless nights could be infuriating. But in shared fantasies she was distracting to the both of them. He longed to look on her with his eyes -- to be blinded by her. But he knew she'd just be repulsed and afraid. Anders longed for other things, much more physical things. But he knew that as long as they were they, that she couldn't possibly want him.

When it turned out that she did anyway, that she was honest when she said she didn't care that they were monstrous, that she didn't mind the pain that they warned her about, well, everything had changed then, hadn't it? The dams built up carefully through long years had crumbled to dust, and even Justice couldn't hold back the tide of their desire. Not even if he had wanted to.

When they'd eased into their new life with her, he started to give in to those wants he dared not to name. When Anders slept, and all was quiet, he would hold her in his arms, look on her with his eyes, watching her sleep. Why he did so, he wouldn't be able to say. He only knew that she was beautiful, that he could see her more truly this way. He thought it was enough.

He didn't know that sometimes when he held her in his arms, she was awake. He didn't know that she liked it.

\------------

Desire wandered the Fade somewhat aimlessly, casually sending out its snakelike feelers. It searched for the telltale sign of a dreamer, their longings, their wishes.

A tendril of lust found its mark, then, and it wrapped around the dreaming one so sweetly. A gentle tug, and then she was simply there, trapped, just as it pleased. It slunk its way through to her, marking its boundaries -- a 'keep out if you know what is good for you' sign to any other. It always paid to be polite.

The mortal was... delicious. That form would spark some wicked desires for it to feed upon, it thought. There was power in her, not just in the raw appeal of her form. Perhaps too powerful. Still, it couldn't hurt to try.

It appeared in front of her as its usual form -- a dark purple scaled 'female' creature with burning passion for hair, and little else covering it but adornments that only served to tantalize by barely concealing.

"Hello there, sweetheart." The words coiled from its tongue, honey dripped. It draped a perfect hand over its round hip, and stroked it lightly, as if to suggest that it knew just how to touch, and wouldn't she just love to let it?

"Oh, fuck, not again..." The mortal woman just huffed in annoyance. Desire could feel her readying ice in her mind, sharp and freezing, willing it to begin the flow.

But the demon wasn't there, only a lilting laugh in the Fade could tell its presence. The weak spell was cast at empty air, just as arms were jerked behind her, the evil thing catching her, whispering to her.

"Oh fuck? So soon? I don't know that you'd like it my sweet." With the closeness of the mortal's essence, it was easy to pry at her mind, seeking her deepest wants. Who did she want to have, and couldn't? The question was given form, emerging from her mind, and Desire tasted of it to know it fully.

She wanted _what?_ Of all the ridiculous... Still, a desire is a desire. If it would get her to budge, it would be worth taking even _that_ form. Perhaps.

It shifted its appearance to be that which Justice now wore, in that place where the spirit had been sent. What was standing behind the mortal now was a tall, thin, nude man, with eyes that shone blue, and cracks of the same blue shine in his skin where the body could no longer contain its contents. That a spirit had gotten to the mortal world before it! It could spit with jealousy!

"But perhaps, you would like to be fucked better like this." Even the voice had changed to Justice's deep echoing tones, and she looked down at the hands that held her. They were cracked through and glowing. Desire could sense that sharp pang of want in her then. "Yes, I could give this to you. For a price. A small favor, certainly worth this pleasure. Take me to your world with you, and I won't fight you, it'll be a partnership. I'll let you have him every night. We can feast on him together."

\------------

Justice could feel the presence of evil as pinpricks of alarm running down his neck. Eyes of Fade light shot open, awake, seeking the source. He found he was holding it in his arms. Marian stirred in her sleep, muttering incoherently. But he knew that the unintelligible words were her calling out to him. He could feel the demon taking hold of her, could feel the corruption of what it was doing through the small window in her mind that was her link to the Fade.

Enraged, he shook her, trying to wake her from the dream, but the demon protested, and her eyes stayed shut and flitting back and forth under her lids. He pulsed, sending a wave of energy through that window, slamming the demon with its force -- a more indelicate way to break its hold on her. Finally her eyes opened, and the feeling of foulness left. It hadn't taken her. Relief. And then fear. He was holding her, and she was awake.

She struggled in his grasp, unaware that she'd left the Fade, and was back in her bed. "Let go of me, demon! I'm not giving in to you this time, or any other! To the Void with your offers!"

She called him a demon. It was everything he'd feared. A part of him wanted to react, to yell back at her how much those words _hurt_ , that he wasn't a demon. He couldn't be. The last time he'd done something like that, though, hadn't gone very well at all. The memory of that act stung like poison, fresh in his mind. He let her go immediately, retreating to the side of their bed.

"I apologize for waking you. I saw that you were being hunted by a demon as you walked the Fade. I could not let one of them harm you." He laid on his back, all nervous tension, staring at the ceiling. He wouldn't look at her.

She steadied her breaths and looked around a bit, at the darkness of the room, the sharpness of objects, the way everything fit. She wasn't dreaming. So that meant... "Oh Maker! Justice. It's really you. I'm sorry, I thought you were... something else."

"There is no need for you to apologize" was all he said, somewhat sadly, still staring at the ceiling.

She could kick herself. Here he was, in the Makerbeloved glowing flesh, and she'd just berated him, right after he'd helped her. This was not how it was supposed to go. In her fantasies, he'd simply known. He'd held her down and devoured her with that strength that only the spirit showed. He was like the tiger to Anders' cat, the power in him showing through shining blue stripes.

"No. I don't think you're a demon. I didn't mean you. I like you, really. It's just, the real demon in the Fade made herself look like you. I was just being rather adamantly opposed to her when you woke me. Um... Thank you for that, by the way. I hate having to deal with them. Demons, I mean." Ugh, she was babbling ridiculously. He refused to look at her, but she wouldn't give him the same courtesy. She felt herself insanely lucky that Anders never wore much to bed. She'd have to commit this sight to memory... for later.

And then he turned, looked at her with eyes so brilliant she could barely make out their shape. Angry eyes. "It took my form? To get to you?" His fists clenched audibly in the stillness of the deep night, and he sat up, exposing more flesh as the blankets fell. "I would make it pay for this outrage." But how? It was gone, now. Its departure would have to be enough.

Her eyes opened a touch wider and wandered as she said a prayer of thanks to whatever god had smiled on her. "It's ok, I'm fine. It's not like it's my first time having to run a demon off, you know. They tried the same thing on me constantly before Anders moved in."

He gave her a strange look. "This demon, it was Desire?" She nodded. "And it took my form. I see." Those piercing eyes narrowed. He looked at her then, not through physical eyes, but with a spirit's gaze, seeking the truth of her. He saw her longing so close to the surface, so vibrant. No wonder Desire caught hold of her, she was swimming in it. He could see what was drifting through her mind -- half-formed images of the two of them. 

There was a time when he would have found such things distasteful. Somewhere along the line, he'd just forgotten why. Hunger was a necessary drive, something Anders had to teach him before he'd caused the body to waste away to nothing. Some measure of sloth was also necessary, this he'd learned after a few bouts of working without sleep to hallucinatory states. Mortal bodies have needs. Not all of them were sinful. And this thrumming feeling was surely not.

He leaned over to her, reveling in the sight of her. "If I were to give you what it is that you desire, they would not be able to use it against you." He said it so matter-of-factly, so easily. Once the rationalizations were made, once the path was made clear, there was nothing left for the spirit to do but to follow that path to where it would lead. 

She quirked a brow at him. "Are you sure I'm not still dreaming?"


	2. First Time

"This is not the Fade." he said as he made his way over to her, eyes locked to her as if looking into her. In a way, he was. A hand came up to wrap around her waist, but hesitated as he saw a sudden fear spring to life in her. "You are afraid. Do you not want this?"

Sure, she'd fantasized about it, wanted it, but she'd never entertained the idea that it could actually happen. She didn't know that Justice even cared for sex, the way Anders spoke of him. Oh... What would Anders think? Was she crazy for even wanting it in the first place? This was all so fast. And there was some outright fear of the spirit as well. She'd seen what he could do. Her craving was quickly winning the battle, however.

Her final response to his question was simply to grasp him by the hair and pull him close into a hard kiss. There was nothing that conquered her fears better than just charging in, she always thought. It worked for fighting at least.

Justice was lost in her, in this moment, as his throat made a rumbling hum. Anders might have kissed her before while he was present in their mind, but he hadn't. Somehow he'd imagined it would feel the same, but it didn't. This was so much more. She was touching _him_ , the essence of him that spilled through the cracks -- touching him with that desire that wrapped around her. But this was not exactly what she wanted. He could feel that much, see it in her thoughts, now quite focused. None of those mental pictures had her in control. He had to be sure that he would leave her sated.

He grabbed her wrists firmly, dislodging the hand wrapped in his hair, and pulled them behind her back before fighting with her lips to thrust his tongue past them to taste her. He could sense that this was the right thing to do in the way that her pleasure coiled around them like some sweet smoke, and in the way she wrapped a leg around his and sought the friction of his thigh between her legs.

She moaned her compliance into him as he delved into her mouth, licking her tongue, exploring her. Maker, it was like he knew just what to do. But how? From Anders' limited discussion about the spirit, she was pretty sure this was his first kiss even. He tasted like Anders, and... something else -- A sharp tang of magic, something she didn't so much taste as feel. Oh when was he going to touch her elsewhere...

Her thoughts of the why and how of all this fled her as he wrapped strong fingers around both wrists with one hand, and traveled up her body with the other. He slid his hand between them, under her chemise which then caught his light within, reflecting off of her skin. His fingers lingered at the curve of her breast, before gliding over a taut nipple and squeezing.

As he broke the kiss, a trail of shining blue mist remained between their lips, evaporating into the air slowly. And she, for her part, was left trembling with want. "I need you inside me. Oh Maker I need you."

The spirit's eyes narrowed. "There is no Maker, only me." His voice was low and almost threatening. What she wanted to do to him! No, what she was doing to him. He could feel his body's need coiling beneath the stomach, twisting inside. "I do not think that you have yet earned it."

"And what do I need to do to earn this boon then, spirit?" She had a sudden dark thought. What if he wanted to force her to make copies of the manifesto, or something.

"That would be... helpful. But I was thinking of something more pressing, considering the current situation." He continued caressing her, rubbing a calloused thumb back and forth across her little nub.

"Wait, what?" Her eyes opened a bit. "You know my thoughts?"

"I am... reading you, yes. Would you rather I did not?"

"No... no. Ahh... It just explains a few things." She arched her back, pressing into his body and wandering hand. No wonder he seemed to know exactly what to do. He really did.

He let her go then and sat up, prompting a little whine of protest.

"You may earn your pleasure by attending to mine. I would have you taste of me." He didn't know why this would excite her so. It seemed to him to be a quite one-sided request, and yet he knew it would set her aflame.

Her eyes grew heavy and dark, as she sat up and positioned herself opposite him. "Yes, I will earn you."

She hooked her fingers into the waist of the smallclothes that Anders had worn to bed, and freed his straining cock from its binds.

She gazed into his ethereal eyes worshipfully, before licking her lips and caressing his shaft. His breath sped noticeably, and he leaned back as he watched, entranced. She was determined to make this first time one of the best memories of his long existence.

She laid light kisses along his thin stomach, going further down slowly with each brush of lips. This continued until he pushed her head down with care -- a gentle but firm demand.

She smiled, leaned down, and licked a long slow path up the underside of his cock with the flat of her tongue, amused to note that there was that same suggestion of the taste of power at the back of her mind, the feeling of spirit energy in her mouth. She wondered what it would be like to take him deep within, to swallow him as he came. Would it taste like him too? If he wished it of her, she would in a heartbeat, even though she ached to feel him filling her so sweetly.

His startled inhalation through teeth made a hissing noise as that tongue lapped at him. When his breath left again it drug with it a low groan as she reached the head and prodded the slit at the top with the tip of her tongue, tasting the newly-formed bead of liquid there. She wrapped hot, wet lips around it then, tongue writhing. He could only grasp the bed sheets tightly, gasp a short exclamation, and lean his head back, eyes closed in the desire to block out everything but her mouth and tongue on him. 

She used the tricks that Anders had taught her, so many lovely ways of getting the mage to squirm. It should work on the spirit part of him as well, right? She slid her lips up and down his cock, taking him deeper into her mouth and then her throat each time, her tongue pressing him and licking from the inside. He rocked his hips in time with her, to increase that delightful friction. She felt it as his fucking her throat, with some degree of happiness at the desperation she drove him to. She took a breath, and when she had taken him in as far as possible, she swallowed, rippling the muscles of her throat around the head.

His pleasure had been leaping forth from within, to join the curling smoke of hers. They would leave imprints of this night where they touched, that he knew. They would leave memories in the air that would fade only slowly with time. Mortals couldn't see such things, but he could, with senses that had been attuned over an endless lifetime of such perception. This room had already been colored by love and longing and loss. Now he would add his own piece to the tapestry of her life that was etched into this place. But it was too much, too intense. He was going to loose himself now if it didn't cease.

"Stop. Enough." He managed to get the words out between heavy breaths. And she did stop, pulling him out of her mouth, and then laying a kiss to the tip of his hard length. "You have done well." He reached out to run his fingers under her chemise, lifting it. She raised her arms to help him, and he drew it over her head, but wrapped it around those uplifted arms. A makeshift bond -- one that hold her only if she wanted it to. He knew that she did. "Are you prepared to receive your reward?"

She had what must be the goofiest looking grin on her face, looking up at him. She just nodded quickly, afraid if she opened her mouth of what would come out. He leaned her back on the bed, making sure to glide his hands over her curved form as he did so. When he got to her waist, he began to peel her smallclothes down her legs. This was necessary for what was to come next.

Her bare flesh was nothing that he had not seen before, but the feel of her, the closeness that was evident here was so potent and raw. And he'd never seen her quite like this. She stretched out beneath him, that soft skin sheened with sweat that caught his light and reflected it back. She shone with him. She was so beautiful, and this felt so _right_. When she and Anders coupled the sensations came to him muted as if from a memory, and now he would feel this for himself. But no, this had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her, with pleasing her. He had to remind himself that much.

"Spread yourself open to me." he said, with that demanding voice.

She could get off on just his voice alone, that echoing deep rumbling thing. She opened her legs for him, loving the way his gaze raked over her. "Maker, yes..."

And with that, he was upon her, pinning her shoulders down to the bed. He leaned down to her ear, just as the head of his cock teased her apart between her legs. "You have forgotten what I have said of your Maker already?"

Her hot breaths lingered on his neck. "Justice, yes?"

"Better." With a sharp snap of his hips, he was inside her, roughly.

She let out a long, drawn out cry as he began his hard thrusts. He was fucking her without mercy or doubt or letting up. If anything, he was going faster, wringing the ecstasy from her skin. And the sounds he made, growling his own needs out with her through bared teeth. She couldn't last long, not like this. And soon she was indeed screaming his name, and gripping his cock from the inside.

He felt her release like a gush of bliss, flowing through him. And what he could see of it was breathtaking. Her eyes were shut, her mouth open with his name on her lips. "Beautiful... so beautiful." he murmured back.

He stayed with her, continuing to slide inside, but slowly, gently, respectful of her sensitivity. He leaned down and kissed her panting mouth until she started pressing herself up against him, and the fantasies running through her head began to coalesce yet again.

She wanted him to mark her. The images in her mind were of him biting, bruising, _hurting_ her until she would bear the evidence on her skin -- a mark of his possession. He couldn't bear to think of it. But she needed it. Why? He could not do that to her. But he could do something else.

"Get on your knees." he said, and pulled out of her, leaning back and away.

She shivered, and shifted, rolling over on her stomach, then pulling up on her knees as he had asked. A few moments passed in tense expectation, before he leaned over her again, slicking his hands across her back, and then curving down to her ass. He moved his hands toward the front then, grabbing her by the hips, and pulling her into him. She could feel the tip of his erection sliding between her folds, and she bucked back at him with a moan. He grasped the back of her neck in response, tightly but not tight enough to harm her.

"You want me to make you mine?" he growled.

"Unn... Yes."

"Stay still."

He entered her sopping wet heat with speed and strength, the slap of their bodies audible, and began his assault anew. "I shall mark you as mine. Oh, mortal... they will smell me upon you, and fear it. They will not... dare to touch you again or they shall feel my wrath!"

The new position allowed him to plunge into her even deeper, and he was making great use of that fact. She soon felt herself wanting to writhe against him again, and would have were it not for his warning. Instead, she let him guide her with his one hand at her hip, and the one clutching at her neck. His words became more loose and broken, his thrusts quicker, and she was unraveling before him bit by bit.

But when he finally came into her, roaring with triumph, she could feel him flowing into her not just from where they were joined. Something else flowed from that grip at her neck as well. He was marking not her flesh, but her essence with his own. And rational thought then fled her as she screamed and jerked in her own climax.

There were no thoughts to be had for Justice in that moment, just sensations -- bewildering sensations. And relief, as it seemed a weight he'd held for so long had finally been let go.

When it was over, they stayed there just gasping together, before toppling over, limbs splayed. She struggled with weak muscles to pull her arms out of her tangled nightshirt, to bring a shaky hand up to the back of her neck. He rolled over on his side, staring at her, seemingly dazed.

Was this what mortals sought after in this act? This feeling of weightlessness and peace? The body's rushed frenzy collapsed at one shining moment, and led to such a state of bliss. It was no wonder to him anymore why Desire was considered so powerful an adversary, if this is what such demons offered.

Strange phosphene lights danced before her shut eyes, blending together into a symbol, or symbols that wouldn't stay still, ever shifting. But when she opened her eyes again, they were gone. Even remembering what they had looked like was difficult.

"What... what was that?" She asked, clutching at her neck.

"Hmm?" He blinked, roused out of some deep thought. His voice sounded as though coming from far away, heavy and tired.

"That... thing you did to my neck, what did you do?" There was a note of fear there, but he was too exhausted to even begin to find out why.

"I used a portion of the Fade that I carry with me to... imprint you with my warning. It is a promise of retribution to those who would harm you. When you next walk the Fade, you need not fear the minor demons that wait there. They will know that you are mine, and fear my wrath." The words came slowly, sounding relaxed and almost happy, despite their content.

Really? He did some sort of spirit... thing to her? That was a bit less than comforting. At least it didn't sound like he'd possessed her, or anything. She smiled, nervously. "Well, maybe next time I will get you to just bite me instead."

He wore a look of outright confusion. "I would never do such a thing. To cause you such pain would not be right."

Marian huddled herself into him, finally gathering the will to move. "Sometimes, Justice, we mortals like a bit of pain in our pleasure. It makes things exciting." She thought of herself being bitten and sucked by the strong, intense creature next to her, and shivered a little. It had been a bit frightening, but he apparently didn't mean to hurt her. That meant something, right?

"I... do not understand. But I will try, if it pleases you." he said, as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as he did when this had all began. Mortals always did seem to have that curious duality about them. Vice and virtue, good and ill, and now, pleasure and pain together in the same act. Maybe it did make sense somehow, in that odd mortal fashion. It was hard for him to think in such terms.

The almost unspoken agreement between them was that there was to be a next time. Justice considered this. Would it be wrong to continue when she was in little danger of demonic attack? He found he just didn't care.


	3. Guilty

Anders woke with the sun, as usual, always hours before she did. He treasured the gift that was waking up in bed with another person. It didn't hurt that she always looked so adorable early in the morning, drooling on her pillow. All sense of propriety was gone by the time the sun rose, with her hair wild and limbs splayed randomly.

He thought about leaning over and taking a pink nipple in his mouth, having some fun before heading off to the clinic. Except for the fact that she might not appreciate the whole waking up part, it was a great idea. Instead, he just began getting ready (and didn't he go to bed at least wearing smallclothes?) whilst looking her way every once in a while to have her do wicked things to him in his thoughts. He had to have some way to keep the blood flowing at the clinic all day.

He thought of the way her back arched when he licked her little pearl, the way she would squeal when he would coat his fingers in static and slip them into her. He thought of her nude form rising triumphantly from a pool of singing lyrium, to kneel at his feet. And that is when things started getting very frightening. Sometimes, he honestly couldn't tell which thoughts were his and which weren't. Sometimes, however, the answer was quite clear. _But since when did Justice have such ideas?_ He had to leave, and quickly. What if that thing inside him erupted in lust instead of wrath? He'd die first before letting that happen to her.

\---------

Marian had to talk to someone. And she only had one person in mind, really. It would likely end up in one of her 'friendfictions', but at least Isabella of all the people she knew would understand. When she arrived at The Hanged Man, the Rivaini was playing some card game, probably making a fortune off of some guys who were paying more attention to her assets than her fast fingers.

"Isabella!" she hissed.

"What? Can't you see I'm _busy_ here, Hawke?"

"It concerns _smiting_." 

"Doesn't everything?" She smirked. "Look, unless it involves a way for me to get in on said smiting, you're just going to have to wait your turn."

"Alright. Fine." Hawke leaned down to whisper into Isabela's ear. "It involves me being smote... smot? Whatever, last night, by Anders' better half."

Isabela's eyes widened a bit. "Well, boys, it's been fun, but this game just got a whole lot more boring." After taking her winnings, she nearly dragged the other woman off to a more private locale.

"So? I want to know everything."

Marian just turned around, lifting her hair up in the process. "First, could you tell me if you can see anything... unusual about my neck?"

A strange request, even from Hawke, she thought. "Uhm... What am I looking for exactly?"

"I have no idea! Just, does it look normal?"

"It looks like the back of your neck. If I just had to quit a profitable game before fleecing my opponents for this, you are so paying me back, Miss Champion."

She turned back around, relieved. "Oh good. So, it happened, Isabella. It finally happened. And it was everything I wanted it to be... quite literally."

"So you do like his spear of righteousness then? I thought as much."

"I've got a problem though. I don't think Anders knows. What do I do? How do you even go about telling someone that you screwed their imaginary friend?" She started gnawing on her fingernails.

"Why don't you just _tell_ him? I mean, it's better than him finding out some other way."

She whined. "You're right. As usual."

"And if you don't want it to be me who tells him, you'd better fill me in on all the steamy details." Isabella winked with that lascivious charm.

\---------------------

She was already making up her arguments along the path that led from The Hanged Man to Darktown. 'You said the two of you are one being, so it's not cheating, really...' was quite high on the list. 'I just want to love you... all of you.' could be just sappy enough to work, though. Anders was somewhat of a romantic at heart... No, no, it was too much. Just tell the truth, right? That would make the guilt fade.

The truth, however, was hard to think of saying to him. Every time she'd even broached the subject of Justice (the whole 'unwilling participant' thing, the asking if she could at least talk to him, the subtle hints) it all ended in Anders going evasive or outright saying no. She had been starting to think that maybe the spirit _was_ unwilling, and that's why Anders wouldn't speak of him. It just felt so wrong.

So, she'd started fantasizing about Justice being decidedly willing. It made things easier if she could pretend that all of Anders could enjoy the things they did. And now she knew the truth. It was time to tell him, if the spirit hadn't already.

She found herself staring down the door to the clinic, and gathered up the courage to knock.


	4. Jealousy

Anders had been struggling with himself all day. What could he possibly say to her that would make sense? He was pretty sure by now that Justice had moved on from grudging acceptance (preferring to admire from afar) to full on _longing_ , and what did that mean? He'd been so afraid of this, that the _demon_ in him would turn on her, would hurt her... He felt Justice twist around inside, angrily insulted.

The thinking was sheer torture. So, he'd poured himself into work, to get his mind off of things. When there wasn't a patient needing care, he started on the manifesto. That was a thing that they could both focus on, and keep the unbidden thoughts at bay.

There was a knock at the door, and a surprising, warm feeling that suggested it was Hawke on the other side. Well, shit. He rubbed his eyes absentmindedly, as he was accustomed to doing when he could feel Justice so close to the surface. The eyes were the first to show, he knew. Gathering control, he dragged himself up from the desk, and answered the door, to find her there.

"I have something I need to tell you." she said, eyes cast at the floor.

He could feel Justice stirring at the sight of her, could feel his wanting to break free. "I... uh... Now isn't exactly the best time."

She looked around the clinic, somewhat obviously. "Well, I don't see anybody here. Unless there are invisible templars about, I don't know what reason there is to worry."

He glanced around outside, before ushering her into the door and closing it. "Look. I..." What could he say to her that wouldn't cause her to run away? He'd lose her for sure. "Just... what were you here to say?"

She gave him a quizzical look. Did he know already? Is that why he was acting so strangely? Or was this just another paranoia bout that would pass in time? "So, has he told you yet?"

"Has who told me what?" The question made no sense.

"I'll take that as a no." She strode over to a cot and sat down. "Ok. Last night, while you were sleeping, Justice came out of his shell, so to speak."

"What? Did he hurt you?" Anders rushed to her side quickly, passing a healer's eye over her. Although, with the thoughts the spirit had been having of her, perhaps physical harm wasn't the issue.

"No, no, nothing like that. In fact, he was quite adamant about not hurting me, even when I asked." She could feel the blood rush to her face, she must be bright red.

"You... asked? For what?" His face was full of disbelief, but some anger was slipping into his voice.

"Sex, Anders, we had sex, all right? And he didn't do a thing I didn't want him to do." She'd managed to look him in the eye when she said it, at least. She looked, so she saw as his eyes grew wide, and then his face twisted in disgust.

"I don't believe this!" he shouted. "How could you do such a thing?" He spat, backing away from her. He was confused, scared (or maybe that was Justice?) and quite angry. What could she have possibly been thinking? At least this explained his earlier musings on how to bite her bare flesh without causing too much damage. That one had been quite a concern. No, she must have asked for such a thing. It made his blood boil.

"Oh really? How could I do such a thing? As I recall, you let him 'enter' you as well. You must have felt some kind of attraction back then." She was lashing back; probably not the best of responses, but to the void with it.

"No, I didn't. He was inhabiting a corpse, Hawke!" He thought back to that time, something he rarely did, for the memories were toxic. But there, when the spirit had left Kristoff's body and stood before him, a whisper of glow in the air, vaguely human shaped, he did find it beautiful. He had wondered if the process were to be something akin to physical love at that point. And when it had turned out to be so much more than that, with an intimacy that could never be matched again, not even with her... He was suddenly unsure of whether he was more jealous of Justice, or Hawke.

She was simply silent. The obvious necrophilia joke to make at his expense here would just infurate him even more.

"Get out." he said, and pointed at the door.

"No, we're going to talk this through!" she said, standing to her feet, somewhat unwilling to just let this fester.

"I need some time to think, and your presence is not helping." he said, tersely, not looking at her.

She just walked out, eyes going wet. No, not the time for that. Later.

When she was gone, the internal war began again, this time with a different take. Anders went back to his writing desk, and shook his head. How could they do this to him? The two 'people' closest to him in the world had conspired against him behind his back. It left him empty.

He looked down, and found that while he was otherwise occupied, his hand had written (on a copy of the manifesto no less) the words 'I do not understand. We love her. She desires us. Why is this wrong? You were the one to convince me that it was not.'

This had happened before, mostly while writing the manifesto. Usually, however, that ghost writing was some non-sequitur about the true meaning of justice. He'd look down, grimmace a bit, and start over, usually with a promise to include it somewhere, just not there.

This time, he crumpled the piece of parchment, and it burst into flame in his hand. "Are you happy now? You ruined it!"

He heard a cough from behind. Oh flaming Andraste. He turned around, and there was a Darktown man he'd never seen in the clinic before. As he recalled, this one usually had a rather black look for him. But here he was carrying a limp child. He'd seen the whole 'Anders acting insane' bit, obviously, what with the scared, surprised look on his face.

"I 'ear yer a 'ealer?" the man said.

"I am." Anders sighed, letting the ashes fall from his hand. He went over to a basin to wash up.

"It's me girl. She won't eat, can't get 'er to drink. She's fev'rish."

"Put her on one of the tables. Listen... I understand that you don't like me much. Do you object to the use of magic on your daughter?"

The other man's face froze. "I won't lie. Makes me stomach turn. But plague took me wife an son, an I can't bear the thought of losin' her too. She's all I 'ave left t' love in this world."

Anders rubbed his eyes. The man's words hit home in more than one way. He looked at the man and nodded grimly before setting to work on the girl's illness.

\--------------------------

He didn't come home that night. That was probably the worst. Marian couldn't tell yet whether she was forgiven or not, and it ate at her. Slipping into bed without him there was torture without his body there to warm it. But as fitful a night's sleep as she was likely to get, it would still be sleep. The tears would dry, and then there would be tomorrow...

And when she finally did slip off into the Fade, it was quiet. Marian was a mage, and could walk the Fade consciously, be stalked by demons, all that lovely stuff. However, she was a mage only in name. She'd inherited all the horrible things about mage life, but none of the power. She could light candles, and make frost, and that was about the extent of things. It was a secret that now only Anders knew. She fought with knives, knives that she couldn't bring with her into dreams.

Lacking the ability to blast them away with powerful magics in the Fade, she'd developed a way of dealing with demons anyway when they found her. Father always said that they wanted to make deals and deceive, because they needed a willing host. So, she just fought them with her mind. She had become an expert at seeing through the dreams they would trick her with, beating back their insults or flattery, angering them, basically making herself not worth the effort.

She felt a cold prickling at the back of her neck, and turned around. Her father was standing there. She must have been thinking of him. "Really? This shit again?" she said, sarcasm laden.

"Darling heart, it's me. Don't you see?" the demon purred.

She could feel its influence, trying to get her to believe in the lie. But it was being held back. It flinched, drew back with a hiss, and its face began to twist into a mask of disgust.

"Ugh, you bitch." her father's face said angrily, though no longer in his voice, rather a graveled, inhuman thing that was likely its real one. It then just gave up, and dissolved into the air.

She found herself smiling a little, rubbing her neck absentmindedly. Justice's 'gift' worked, at least. She wondered if Anders would ever let her see him again.


	5. Making Up with Sex and Sandwiches

In the morning, she packed up some breakfast in a basket, and headed down the familiar path to Darktown. Surely he'd be at the clinic, surely they hadn't taken him away. Surely he'd be in a better mood now, especially since there were eggs and toast on their way.

When she got there, the lamp wasn't lit, which was odd and frightening. What if they _had_ taken him away? The door was locked, though this wasn't exactly a challenge for one of her talents. So, she just let herself in, relocking the door behind her. He was there, but still asleep on his cot in the back, twitching like he did when the nightmares took hold.

"Anders?" She said, walking towards him. She put her hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. 

He awoke with a start, grabbing her arm as his eyes flashed blue for a moment before returning to honey brown.

"It's you..." He said, with a bit of deeper resonance in his voice. He let go of her arm with a shaky hand. "You shouldn't wake me like that in a place I don't feel safe, I could have hurt you."

"Well, you didn't. And you know, you could have slept somewhere safe last night, had you wanted to. You scared me," she said, and knelt down by the cot.

"I just needed to get myself under control. Do you know how hard it is to put your thoughts in order, when you don't even know which of you is thinking them?" He sighed. "By the time I'd calmed down, it was too late; the streets would be crawling with bandits... or worse."

"I'm... I'm sorry, Anders." The words came out stumbling and weak. She was never good at 'sorry'. That was for other people -- people without the weight of the city hanging over them like a scythe. But this time... "It'll never happen again, I promise."

"No," He said, tinged with a baritone rumble. "You can't say that. Not anymore." He reached out and stroked her hair. "What you did, it changed things. You now have a very strong, very passionate spirit infatuated with you, and you get to deal with it."

"What?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "But you were so angry... I thought..."

"I'm not saying it didn't hurt. I'm not even saying it doesn't still. But it's... complicated. We may not be able talk to each other, but I feel what he feels. It's also hard walking around feeling his heartbreak and loneliness." He almost said 'compounded with my own', but thought against it.

"We can't bear to live without you, either of us. That's just something I've got to learn to live with, I guess." He gave a little smirk, one of those that always made her heart flutter to watch. "I never thought I'd share you with anyone else, least of all my stick in the mud headmate. But here we are."

Guilt. It could crush like a vise. She'd hurt him, and she'd keep on hurting him, or so he seemed to say. She only hoped she had it in her to heal as well as he did. But that was never her strong suit. Maybe if she gave him a few wonderful days, no fights, his favorite things. Maybe she could forgive herself.

"I never meant to hurt you." she said, as she slid her body over his, straddling the cot that he'd used as a bed for all those years before. "I hope you know that." She leaned down and started kissing and nibbling at his neck.

"Skipping to the make-up sex part already?" he replied, then drew in a sharp breath as she ground her hips into his.

"Is that a complaint I hear?" she said in a low voice next to his ear, before biting it gently.

"Oh no... far be it for me to complain," he said, as his cock swelled uncomfortably under his clothes from her treatment.

She slid down his body, and her hands wandered south, to pluck at the laces of his pants. She gave him a smirk of her own as she reached inside and started stroking him under his smalls.

As his breath sped, he noticed with a grimace how the spirit within was still close to the surface, wanting to feel. Well, two could play _that_ game. He was only met with a surprising, warm, welcoming feeling. Oh... Really...

He was yanked back into reality when he realized that she'd managed to slip his pants down, and had just drug her tongue up the underside of his now bare cock. He managed a surprised curse, and she just grinned.

"Like that, do you?" she asked, curling her hand around him tightly and tugging, while her mouth was too busy to do the job. And then, with her mouth no longer busy...

"It's perfect," he said, and her lips went to work on his swollen head, her tongue flickering over the tip, tasting him. "So perfect."

She slid her mouth up and down the length of his shaft, paying attention to his body's tells, welcoming the stiff shuddering in his thighs as his need for release grew and spread to lean muscles. 

She knew all of his own tricks, or at least, most of them when it came to this, one of his favorite things. And when those tricks worked, when his entire body stiffened as he groaned in bliss, she swallowed him as deeply as she could, along with his seed. It was the only way to go about such a thing as this. She hoped that it would ease some of the shame she felt clawing at her.

When it failed to, she wiped her mouth dry with a forearm, tried to smile, and shoved the basket of egg and toast at his now terribly relaxed-looking form. "Want a sandwich?"


	6. Submitting to Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sadomasochism and bondage in this chapter. If that's not your thing, don't read.
> 
> Also, if that _is_ your thing... Want to be tied up like Marian? Instructional how-to video! http://www.twistedmonk.com/video/02-SingleLimbCuff.html

It was good to be home again, she thought, even though home wasn't without its own stresses. It had been over two weeks since Justice. There were times when she longed for him again, and others when she wouldn't let herself. Mostly she just tried to stay away from such thoughts, for Anders' sake. He could be so fragile, with his moods. Lately, he'd tended toward the slow, creeping sadness that she was sure was her fault. She tried to make him feel better, but it never seemed to work.

On top of it all, the political situation in Kirkwall was rotting away, with her as the single 'stable' element. That idea in itself was frightening. It seemed as though every noble in town was requesting an audience now, as the months went by and Meredith refused to step down as de-facto leader. But what did they expect her to do about it, exactly? Anything close to capable of working would only lead to an Exalted March on the city.

She'd just returned from such an engagement, clothed in the ridiculous finery that she had to wear -- the trappings of power. All she wanted to do was just relax, try to forget, or try to get some sleep. She barged into her room, and was kicking off her shoes when a deep voice echoed from across the room, sending her heart racing.

"You have been avoiding me." He was sitting at her writing desk in the corner, but had turned the chair to face the door, obviously waiting for her. The wild fadelight streaming from him painted the walls behind him blue in the dimly lit space.

"I... I've been busy." She said, somewhat shocked by his sudden appearance.

He stood, and began to walk toward her slowly. "Do not lie to me. I do not take kindly to lies." The words were accusation and threat both.

Her breath quickened a bit as the fighting instinct hit... what was his intent? She backed up slightly, but he didn't stop his advance, and something in her wanted to let him get close again.

"I know why it is that you have stayed away. It is why I am here."

He bridged the distance between them with that same predatory grace she found so enticing when Anders would relinquish control during a fight. When he'd backed her into the wall, pressing his body against hers, demanding closeness of her, she found her breath quickening for another reason. But when he leaned in to kiss her, she turned her head and looked down.

"What about Anders?" she asked, a bit of tremble in her voice.

He paused, the light within dimming a bit as his face softened, and when he spoke, it was as if _they_ were saying the words together. "Anders is here. He is watching... feeling. It is the way he wants this to be." He slipped his hand behind her head, and this time, when _they_ kissed her, opening her with lips and tongue, she let it happen. Some moments later, she could feel the Fade rush back through him and into her as the spirit again took full control.

Her mind felt cold to him, like steel when his essence caressed her. She was trying so hard to deny what was beneath, that he could no longer see. "Your guilt wraps around you like a cloak. It is keeping you from me, from what you want." He said, breaking the kiss. He stopped there, seeming to consider something. "I could... help you rid yourself of it. If you allowed me."

"What? And just how would you do that?" she asked, incredulous.

He gazed at her longingly with half-lidded, glowing eyes. "I am Justice. It is not a name, mortal. It is what I am. I know much of guilt and innocence. If I were to judge you, sentence you... punish you, then you would no longer need to carry your shame."

She let out a shaky, heavy breath. Punish? He'd punish her? She thought of being shackled and whipped by _him_ and shivered. This was a dangerous spirit she was talking to, she had to remember that. His concept of punishment might be woefully different from her own...

"What if you go too far? Can I trust you?"

"I would never harm you. But, if you ever ask mercy of me, I will relent. Of this I give you my word." he responded.

His offer was frightening, exciting, strangely arousing, all at once. Maybe it would help Anders deal with things to know she was willing to pay for what she did. Maybe it would just disturb him. She couldn't know.

But Justice, he seemed quite certain of how things were to be. He always did. He was certain, forceful, and yet gentle. He asked her permission for everything, even when the thing asked for was to take her volition away.

"All right. Do it then." She bit her lip, wondering just what it was that she was getting herself into.

"As you wish." The cold sharpness of her fear was a tangible thing to him. But this was not without its charm, wrapped as it was within the anticipation and growing need in her.

"From this point until I release you, you are my prisoner, mortal." His voice was again hard and demanding, slipping easily into the role of authoritative judge. He moved his hands up her body, untying the laces holding her courtly attire together as he went.

She just stared at his eyes as he began to strip her, watching the swirl of Fade fire within and listening to those tantalizing words. His prisoner.

When one of those loosened laces caused the gown to fall off her shoulder, he started to ease it off of her, slipping his hands beneath. This heady combination of his chosen virtue and his desire was already beginning to be felt, the body's wants infesting his thoughts. Or perhaps that was Anders, making his own lust for her known. It mattered not. "You are accused of betrayal. You have caused pain to one who loves you. And I do find you to be guilty." 

His words stung her as if he'd slapped her in the face. Betrayal, yes, that was what she had accomplished. She couldn't look at his eyes anymore, even when he growled and raked his hand over a breast now freed from its confines. The gown dropped away, a wool and silk pool at her feet.

Their first time, he had the benefit of her fantasy world, his to peruse. But here, now, there was nothing he could see past the veil of guilt. He would see to it that justice be done, for her sake, and his, if anything just to remove this barrier. He had to do enough, just enough to make her let go. "I sentence you to pain, for pain inflicted. I shall smite you no less than 8 times. For each time that you complain about your treatment, you will receive another. For each time that you do not do as I say, you will receive another. Do you understand?"

"Pain for pain? I think I understand." She hoped she understood, at least. 

He took her by the wrist roughly, and began to drag her across the room, back to her writing desk. Pushing the chair out of their way, he placed her in front of it. With his free hand, he grasped her by the hair, and pulled her down, bending her over the inclined surface. "Grasp the desk, and do not let go. If you move, it will be considered an act of defiance."

Oh. Maker. She really shouldn't say that out loud, knowing the spirit's opinion on said curse. Instead, she silently reached up across the desk and grabbed hold of either side. She heard a rustling of fabric behind her, but the warning against movement held. She wasn't allowed to look.

He pulled coils of rope out of his long coat, placing them on the desk where she could see. He'd prepared for this, or at least something like it, having had plenty of time to think about what he'd seen in her thoughts that beautiful first night. He watched her breathe, the erratic rise and fall of her body, and undid the clasps of the coat. It fell to the floor with a soft thud from the pauldrons. The undershirt came next. And then, he ran his hands up her back, leaning over her, letting her feel his skin against hers.

She sucked in a sharp breath when she felt his touch on her back, the anticipation of pain making every nerve sing with sensitivity. When he pressed himself up against her, she was certain she could feel his hardening cock press against her as well from under his clothing. He was enjoying this. Her heartbeat raced again when he reached for the rope. She had to remember his promise... mercy. He would let her go if she asked. He had to let her go if she asked.

He made a loose knot in the rope and holding it at her wrist, he began wrapping it around and around her arm through the knot, forming a kind of cuff, which he then tightened abruptly and tied off. The other end of the rope he tied to the desk's back leg. She tested it, and found that she could move, barely, but she wasn't going anywhere -- not without dragging the desk behind her, at least. It also didn't hurt or constrict, and the rope was soft. He'd thought of everything, apparently. The thought of his care didn't exactly stop the thudding of her heart in her chest, as if it were trying to escape from its own prison, however.

He repeated the binding on her other wrist, so that she was now somewhat more tangibly at his mercy. She was trying to control her fears, and only partially succeeding, taking slow controlled breaths purposefully. He stood back, admiring the sight of his careful work. "Are you prepared to submit yourself to justice, mortal?"

His words managed to wrench a cry from her throat, as she tried to control her herself and failed. Giving up, she nodded her head, breathing ragged. Her mind stayed fixated on the now and on the near future. Gone was Kirkwall and all its horrid crumbling. Gone was her worry... well, about anything else but this. She wondered how he planned on doing it.

He ran his fingers in her hair, caressing her like she was a favored pet. The light strands caught his glow, reflecting it in their sheen. "If you take your punishment well, mortal, I may be merciful." He released her hair, and drew his hand down her neck, down her back, and then placed it gently atop her spine, feeling every tensed muscle along the way. "But not yet."

He spent a few agonizing seconds studying her, tendrils of his shining energy flowing around her, finding their mark. It felt like an odd tingling sensation where he touched. And when he was satisfied, the walls in front of her lit with blue, and her world was reduced to nothing but the sensation of being struck with a thousand points of frozen lightning, radiating out from his fingers.

The scream that echoed in the room then was more from anxious surprise than anything else. She was The Champion. She knew pain. If you couldn't handle it, you shouldn't exactly challenge everything you saw to a fight. But this was something else, there was more than the physical hurt in this, that much she could tell. He wasn't using a belt or a whip. He was using himself. The thought made her groan, the split second of agony transforming into want. It hurt so nicely...

Pain, the metallic jolt of it rose from her in a wave, washing over him before it was gone. He had expected to feel pity, to have to be strong against faltering _for her_. This was for her, so why did it feel so good? The body's breath quickened, and he became aware of how uncomfortably hard he was getting. Was this some further step along the path to corruption, that he was finding pleasure in this? He'd have to be strong still. This was for her. The phrase became a kind of mantra, even as he prepared to smite her again.

"One."

\--------------

Another, and another, and she was drooling on the desk as she laid there open mouthed and groaned. It didn't even register as something that should bother her anymore. She was merely concerned with waiting for the next strike to come. Each time it felt more and more like something was coming loose, but what it was she couldn't place and hardly cared. And then, cold electric stinging ripped through her again.

"Four."

He was coming undone, that was the only thing that could be said. She was consumed with him now, such thoughts beginning to come loose from behind her carefully constructed walls of remorse. She wanted him. Powerfully. Perhaps it was time for mercy, of a kind.

"You have done well. So well." He slipped his free hand underneath her smallclothes, running it over her hip. "I wish to grant you this small favor. I will allow you to have something else to focus upon."

He slid the fabric down, and let it drop to her feet. Then, he pressed his hand between her thighs, opening her to his advance. She spread her legs wider for him, and let loose a shuddering sigh as he slid his fingers along her folds, finding the little nub within. She felt hot and slick to his touch, a testament to her need.

"Uhn... Justice...." Her voice was heavy, breathy, sounding like someone else to her ears. _Maker_ , he was touching her! Feeling the powerful energy at his fingertips licking her clit was... delicious. Fuck, it felt good. Her muscles clenched, this time not due to pain. And then, it struck again, and she yelped in surprise.

"Mmmm.... Five."

He could feel her cunt spasm against his hand, first from his touch and then the smite. Oh how he wanted to bury himself there, to feel her spasm around _him_ again, his name on her lips. Instead, he tried to focus himself on the task. 

It was not so much a flaying of skin as it was a flaying of psyche -- bringing the walls down brick by brick. He let his power build and crest, and then loosed it upon her, flowing through the cracks in his skin, through the filaments of blue flame that flowed along her flesh, and steeled himself against the oncoming rush of her distress.

"Six."

She flinched, and her body shook as she let out a gasping cry. She rubbed herself against the fingers between her legs when it was over, soothing the sting nicely.

The corners of his mouth raised slightly at the sight of her straining against her bonds to lean into his touch. "Do you enjoy that?"

"Ohyes... uh. Yes." She responded, all panting breath.

"I will allow this as a distraction." He pressed two fingers against her entrance. "But you are not allowed to reach your peak." With the last sentence, he slid his fingers inside, savoring the feel of her.

She bent her head back, eyes shut tightly, reeling from being torn between pleasure and its denial. He was definitely doing _something_ , as she could feel little tingling tongues of power licking and writhing on the inside. "Please? I want... oh!"

"No. You are as yet unworthy." He replied, as he began sharp thrusts, bearing bliss in that hand, and in the other...

Sharp cold stinging pain struck her again, but her answering cry was not one of agony.

"S-seven."

"Please..." she whispered, her back lifting and body squirming, pulling against the rope at her wrists, fingers and Fade penetrating her. Nothing else even came close to mattering, nothing else but his touch, and the absolution and ecstasy it brought. So close, and yet he denied her. Unworthy. Almost worthy. "I need you."

"One more," he said. "You must pay for your crimes, mortal." He inhaled the scent of her sweat-slicked body, drowning in her desire, letting it flow through him. One more, and she would be his again. Although, it seemed she was already there, begging for him even now. Oh! That sweet supplication. Please. His hand stretched against her back, preparing to finish it, for her. For her.

He struck one last time, the shock of ice in her skin and in her mind, and she welcomed it with a sharp cry and a shudder. And all the while, his fingers slipped inside her driving her mad with the need for release. "May I come now? Please?" she pled desperately.

"You may."

It only took a few more thrusts, and she was rolling her head back, babbling nonsense, and jerking her hips. Justice felt the waves of pleasure that rippled through her mind and crashed against his own. It was almost too much, too beautiful to stand. The veil of guilt concealing her thoughts washed away. She was his now. His cock twitched at that thought, hard as rock since the first smite. Yes, it was time to do something about that.

"Justice..." she murmured, breathlessly. It was good to have the desk, she thought. It gave support where her weak knees didn't. At first, she had been afraid of what he might do. And now, well, there was still fear. He had her at his mercy. But it was hard not to want the fear, to use it, to bloody well get off on it. There was a tenderness there too, she could tell. even through the punishment, he was so careful with her. She felt him lean over her, stroking her hair. He planted a kiss to her neck, ever so softly, and that's when she realized he'd ditched the clothes all together, as his now bare cock pressed and then slid along her wet folds.

"Can you feel what you do to me, mortal?", he breathed against her neck. "I do not think it would be just to let you go until you have satisfied me. Completely." He shifted his hips until his cock pressed up against her clit and rubbed.

"Oh! Certainly not." she replied, with a grin.

He could see what she wanted now, her need to be used, to let the fear of him excite her. Images of her being ravaged flitted through the space between them. At that encouragement, he grabbed her hair and pulled, forcing her to arch awkwardly backward as the ropes at her wrists creaked with the strain. She could see his face now, his eyes so bright they left spots in her vision. Her breath caught in her too-stretched throat. 

"I will take you now, as is my right. You are mine."

"Y-yours."

He released his hold on her hair, letting her head fall back down on the desk. He grabbed her by the hips and then she felt the head of his cock seeking the right spot, being pushed in. Her world was then filled with the sensation of him slamming into her roughly, filling her so suddenly it came as a shock. She let loose a startled gasp as he voiced a low and needy groan.

"I will not be denied by you." he said, as he pulled almost all the way out of her and then forced his way back in. He felt the body's familiar response, instinctual urges that were allowed to take over, but there was also his own completely alien one. Spirits were never meant to do this, and her mind could give him no guidance. But the touch of her sex to the spirit within, touching the blinding hot source of her lust, it was exquisite. It drew him onward. She seemed to enjoy what he'd done with his fingers, so he proceeded to caress her from the inside, even as he started to pound into her with quickening rhythm.

"Aaaa! Yes! Justice, yes..." She'd been moaning before, but now, feeling like he was stroking her with tingling spirit magic again, she no longer cared how loud she was. She started using the desk as leverage to push herself against his hard thrusts, draining what shreds of strength she had left. She could feel the warmth of her impending orgasm pooling in her stomach, tensing and pulsing, threatening to break loose. And when he began to lift her feet off the floor with the force of his pounding, feeling impaled on his cock, it did. She cried out uncontrollably, wild, and the muscles of her body spasmed in response to the flood of heat.

She'd started squeezing him so hard that it was difficult to keep up the pace. But when he'd responded with more force, he felt her pleasure burst forth, gripping his cock rhythmically within. As her orgasm washed over him, he drew upon it, tasting her ecstatic emotions to fuel his own. Thought left him as the body's instincts took control and drove him deep into her, to fill her with his seed. 

Sensations came back to her slowly, in pieces: the feeling of him sliding out of her, the scrape of wood grain against her nipples, the tug of rope, heavy breath. Thoughts came trickling in after, wondering what would happen now. Her lazy musings were interrupted by the sound of a dagger slicing rope, first on one side and then the other. She brought her arms down once freed, wrists still wrapped, but no longer tied down. They felt sore and heavy. Well, everything felt heavy and deliriously good, she thought absently, as she began to slide down the desk.

The pleasant floating sensation of peace he felt was brought to a sudden halt as she gave way and slid to the floor lifelessly. His body was exhausted --spent as Anders would say. But still, he caught her, lifting her dead weight as if she were a wisp of smoke. He may have moved with Anders' body, but it was not muscle that provided the strength. As with most things when it came to the spirit, it was strength by will alone.

"Are you injured?" he asked, worry in his deep voice.

She giggled in response, to his confusion. "Nobody could feel this glorious and be injured. I'm fine. Better than fine. I'm just a bit weak in the knees."

He helped her to the bed, where she made room for him and smiled lazily. She let her eyes rove over him, having been denied the sight during their whole ordeal. It was Anders' thin lithe frame all right, but shattered with cracks of light, looking almost like a broken thing, if he weren't so unearthly beautiful. And of course, there were the eyes of phosphorescent blue, locked to her own.

"I am pleased that you found it enjoyable, then... my love." he said, as he crawled into bed after her, finally allowing the fatigue win.

"Love? You love me?" She propped herself up with an elbow, seemingly quite pleased with herself. "Or is that just Anders coming through, I wonder..."

"Yes, and no. I do feel his affection for you as my own. And yet there is more. I have tried to deny it, and yet it will not cease. Still, I am eternally grateful to you for allowing me to feel this, and not running from me." As he spoke, he wrapped his arm around her, drawing them close. He wanted so much to hold her, as if the body had become so used to her touch that parting was uncomfortable.

"And why would I run away from something so sexy?" She grinned a roguish smile at him. Well, this was not exactly unexpected, but certainly the ego did get boosted a bit at his exclamation of love and unending gratitude. She'd managed to seduce a spirit of the Fade. What would the Chantry say? Well, besides 'Die, abomination!'. That probably went without saying.

"There are many reasons. You have seen what I am capable of. Even Anders believes that I am corrupted. Sometimes even I am not sure what I am anymore."

"Well, that's easy. You're Justice. You said it yourself; it's not a name. You're a spirit of the Fade."

"You say that with such certainty. You do not know." He reached out to stroke her hair, almost as an afterthought. "Even with you, I have done things no spirit ever would. I took pleasure in your pain, I tasted of your ecstasy, acting no better than Desire. And I would do so again." Yes, he had _liked_ it to feel her agony, her fear, her lust. How far had he fallen to come to this?

Well, now things were getting serious, she thought. Then again, he was rather serious all the time. She made a mental note to find some way of getting him to laugh. It would be a lofty goal. But for now...

"You're not demonic for liking this. If you're a demon, then so am I. Besides, would a demon be sitting here agonizing over their actions? Would a demon give it a second thought? Would a demon fall in love?" she said, wrapping her leg around his.

He was silent, mulling over her words for a while. Certainly a demon would do none of those things, but neither would a spirit. Being in this world had changed him indeed. He was corrupted and elevated both. Perhaps he was not becoming a demon as Anders feared, but becoming more like the mortal whose gift of life he had accepted.

"Perhaps you are right. Your words mean more to me than I can say. Whatever I can do in return for you, let it be known."

Always just, even to a fault, she thought. He actually wanted to pay her back for a kind word in his direction. Well, she never was one to turn down an offer.

"Well, it might be impossible... But I've always really wanted you both. You and Anders, at the same time." She buried her face into his chest, feeling the rhythm of his breath as it caught at her words.

The thoughts in her head said what her words did not. He had wanted to say that she _did_ have them both -- tonight in fact. But no, he saw her mind well enough. She wanted them separate, pleasing her. Mortals. They were so surprising.

"It will take time. And lyrium."

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids as she lay curled up next to him, but his words shocked them back open. So it was possible? A thrill raced through her, and she pulled herself even closer to his warm body, tingling slightly when she touched the places where _he_ broke through the cracks.

"But how?" she said. "I thought the two of you couldn't be separated? That's what Anders claims at least."

"I remember how it felt to be pulled into the Fade again through magic, I believe it is possible to recreate it, if even for a short while."

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as was his secretive habit, though usually she was asleep. "What I could give you there would be but an elaborate illusion. Anders and I would still be joined. Do you still wish for this?"

She stifled a giggle into his chest. Did she want a hot threesome wet dream? Was that really a question that needed asked? "Of course I do."

He sighed and breathed in the scent of her. He could feel the lethargy of sleep begin to take hold. But that was all right. He felt more relaxed and at peace than he could remember.


	7. The Love of a Mage

When she awoke, he was still in bed, or rather Anders was. It was rather unusual for him to sleep in, but it came as a nice surprise. They did have something to discuss after all. She stretched lazily, basking in the sunlight now filling the room. She knew he was watching, and that made it even nicer.

"So you _are_ alive then, tease." he said, obviously well awake. He'd been watching for some time, then.

She opened her eyes and grinned at him. "Barely alive, after last night. Speaking of... You're sure you're ok with... well... watching?"

"Well it's certainly better than being kept out of the loop. Now I know how Justice felt these past years." He propped himself up on his arm, light catching the gold in his hair. "It was incredibly erotic. Watching you, feeling you, and all I could do is sit back and let it happen."

She beamed back at him. It was good to know he enjoyed himself. This was turning out, well... better than expected. She traced a fingernail over his chest, lowering her eyes and biting her lip "And what about... the other thing?"

"Other thing? What other thing? I don't believe I know what you're talking about, serah Hawke." His eyes turned playful, _that_ smirk pasted on his face.

She laughed. "You know what I mean. You, me, and Justice, in the Fade."

"Now that is something to think about." he said, turning a bit more serious.

She _would_ want to do this. Never mindful of danger, she just threw herself at everything. It drove him crazy sometimes, how she'd just depend on him to heal her, back from her latest reckless deeds. She had no restraint. Maybe she and Justice really were made for each other. But he would be there, that was the point, wasn't it?

"I couldn't help but notice how much you enjoyed yourself last night. I just don't understand why. I get why Justice likes it, but you?"

She just shrugged. "I can't explain it, really. But when I was tied up and um... hurt, it was like nothing else really mattered. All that mattered was him and what he was doing to me."

"Then why do you even want me there in the Fade?" he said. Fishing for an ego boost, perhaps, but maybe it would be worth it.

"Is it so bad of me to want you? You said you liked to watch, why not participate?" she said, looking coy.

He thought of what it would be like. Justice seemed fairly certain it was possible, but Anders couldn't fathom how. They couldn't actually be separated. But if they even seemed like it, could he handle it? Would they finally be able to talk to one another? And if so, could he keep himself from lashing out?

What was between him and Justice was something like love, if you could call it that. At least he loved the spirit's purity of purpose, the _rightness_ of the cause. But there was also hate. The jealousy he still held for the spirit was partly born of the memory of what had already been taken from him. And then it seemed like she was to be taken away as well, a second time. He tried to push it down, to let it go, because it was easier that way, because a part of him honestly wanted to make this work. He was pretty sure he knew which part of him that was, too.

She would be there, though. And she was one thing that he and Justice completely agreed upon. Perhaps that would be enough.

"I'm not... entirely certain how this is going to work. But yes, I'll 'participate', if it means I get to have you in my dreams." His eyes softened. In some ways he was so very lucky. He was certainly luckier than most mages, those who could barely dream of love. She was the beacon, the focus, the embodiment of the reason they fought. He felt that sense of revolutionary zeal flooding his consciousness, and knew that Justice was close at hand. He let go, and saw her eyes reflecting the glow of his own, as his senses dulled, as he felt pulled inward, but not completely.

"I'll always be yours," she said. "That goes for both of you."

"And we are yours." _they_ said, in unison. She beamed back at them, a glorious sight in the morning sun.

She leaned in to kiss him softly, and he felt Justice retreat again, content to watch. After last night, he should be, Anders thought.

As they kissed, he ran his fingers up the inside of her legs, infusing their tips with static that set her skin tingling. She laughed, breaking the kiss.

"So this is why you stayed until I woke?" she asked.

"Maybe." he said. "Maybe I just like watching beautiful women, naked in my bed."

His fingers reached the soft wetness of her folds, and she sighed. This was going to be a great morning.

"It's... oh! Actually _my_ bed." she said, having sudden difficulty with putting words together.

"As long as you let me use it, I'll not complain." he responded.

He rubbed her clit gently, even as the static pulses between his fingertips made her leg twitch in response. He always could reduce her to a writhing mess. And Primal was the perfect school of magic with which to do so for her. He shifted his body atop hers and replaced those fingers with his cock, his lips turning paler as frost coiled around them in fernlike patterns. He nibbled at her neck with those cold lips, leaving trickles of snowmelt as he pressed them to her hot fluttering pulse.

"Unn... enough teasing!" she said, pushing him over and rolling atop him, lithe and smooth as if this were her usual, more martial sort of dance. She knew exactly how to place a person's body right where she wanted it, to accept a blade's edge, or something softer. And it never failed to give him a thrill to watch.

"You like my teasing too much for me to stop." he replied, grinning up at her.

Her only answer was to slide him into her, curling her legs around his, and silencing his smart mouth with a kiss. Man and spirit shared the same body, perhaps, but she couldn't convince herself that they felt the same, not at all. There was a softness to Anders that belied his power, the truth of the magic running through him that could set her aflame within seconds, but with such fine control that his tongue could hold fire while his lips were slicked with frost. She rode him as he played with her senses, until it finally became too much to concentrate on at once, and the spells wore away, leaving nothing but skin and sweat and pleasure.

He didn't last long, having been assailed by dreams of her all night, Justice no longer seeming to complain about the obsessive thoughts of her, not wishing to banish those memories now, at least. When she clenched tightly around him, fingers clawing into his sides hard enough to leave marks, he lost the will to hold back. Bodily demands took over and thrust him upwards into her, never wanting to leave as thought fled and seed spilled and Justice watched.

And as he looked up at her afterward, beautiful as always, there was not the guilt that he usually had to fight, no intrusive thoughts that such activities were insignificant in comparison to what he _could_ be doing. There was only peace. Perhaps this could be a good thing after all.

They lay there in the afterglow for a few minutes, until she roused and lazily played with his hair.

"You know," she said "this isn't making me want to get up."

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Ugh, what time is it? They're going to think the templars caught up with me at last."

"Don't even joke about that." she replied, a bit of sternness in her voice.

"You're right, I shouldn't." He kissed her forehead, and finally made it up and out of what had become the world's most comfortable bed. "Usually, I have someone else in the back of my head telling me these things. Who knew that the answer to all my ills was to get him laid?"

He wandered around the room, picking up the pieces of discarded clothing they'd left scattered about last night. "Socks... socks... where are my socks? What could he have _done_ with them?"

"I'm glad you're feeling better." Well, he was definitely out of his mood, that was certain, she thought. He hadn't been quite so upbeat in a long while. She stretched and yawned, twisting the sheets around her, smiling.

He gave her one of those grins of his. "You know, you don't get to stay in bed all day either. You have a job to do."

"Oh? A job? Do I get something in return for this job?" she asked, coy.

"Lyrium. Whatever it is that Justice has planned requires it. And you know what it is you're getting in return."

She knew, and the thought made her squirm.


	8. Binding Ritual

_It is time. You will make yourself ready by removing your clothing. I will come for you when the darkness falls._

_\--Justice._

She read it again in the fire's light, the cheap yellowing paper and setting sun making that difficult. The letter had arrived earlier, and she'd spent the whole day giddy, waiting for this moment. She'd done as was requested, and when the sun had begun to set, she made her excuses to Orana about dinner, and went upstairs to prepare herself.

True to his words, as the last of the sunset light left the room, Anders opened the door. But it was Justice who closed it behind, warm brown eyes bursting through with white light, before the rest of him seemed to crack apart. In his hand, he held a silver goblet that glowed from the lip, like an extension of the light that now shone from beneath his skin.

Lyrium. Something about the singing mineral drew Justice toward it, and he was beginning to understand why. Of all the substances in the physical world, this was the only one which straddled realms as he did. It was the perfect vessel. Processed into liquid, it no longer sang its sweet song, but neither could she eat raw lyrium and live. The vials holding their precious bluish contents had been prepared over time, and poured into the cup. He could even feel it now as a steady pulling sensation, the results of his manipulation.

And she was sprawled out on the bed, nude, the firelight coloring her skin, just as he had demanded. His shining eyes roved over her form, and the only betrayal of the growing heat in him was a sharp intake of breath. 

"There you are." she said, and stretched out in feline grace. "Do I please you?"

He walked over to the bed and began running his hands over her bare skin, as if to inspect her, fingers pausing, squeezing where he could feel the pleasure of his touch course through her.

"You are... pleasing, yes." he replied.

"So, do I get to ask how this is going to work now?" she asked, looking pointedly at the glowing silver goblet in his hand.

He handed it to her carefully, as if it carried liquid gold. 

"When last we went to the Fade in such a way," he said, "the keeper used the strong presence of the boy remaining at his home to link us to him. I have imbued this lyrium with my presence, such that it will so bind you to me."

She looked down into the cup, polished silver reflecting the swirling glow within.

"Drink and I shall begin." he said, with that demanding tone of voice.

There was so much of it, she thought. She'd never had more than a small amount, enough to recognize that it wouldn't actually boost her meager abilities with magic. It was also dangerous and addictive for those who didn't burn its effects away quickly with spells. She'd seen enough elder templars gone insane to know not to mess with it.

"Will I have to do this every time?" she asked, suddenly apprehensive.

He paused in thought, considering for a moment, while caressing her skin. "I could try to maintain the bond, if that is what you wish."

She thought of the spirit stalking her dreams, and nodded quickly. "Yes, please."

"You may not always want it to be so." he said, a bit sadly.

She shifted, reaching out to hold his hand. "I know. But I trust you."

The words stuck in his mind. He didn't deserve her trust, not when he was only here, only existing in order to break it. She should know the real reason why they jumped at shadows and wandered the halls of her mansion morose, as if the end were near. It was.

But not now. Now was a time of giving, a way of apology to the mortals he had and would harm. And as yet, he had not betrayed her.

"Then drink." he said, and began to disrobe.

She raised the goblet in hand and took a sip. It tasted much like lyrium she'd taken before, but when it touched her tongue, the familiar feeling of sharp power was there also. She drank from the cup again and the sensation intensified, her body washing over with chill and electric buzz. When she looked back up at him, she noticed the room was shifting slightly here and there, little ripples appearing on the walls that drew her eye. So this was what they meant when they said you would see things?

He watched her, entranced, and if he were honest, a bit jealous. He'd long nursed a fantasy of taking her with the ribbed neck of a bottle of lyrium, and drinking the results from her, the delicious mix of it and her excitement. Maybe he would hear her song, then. A bit of it hung from her lips, and he almost lunged in to lick it off, before she went and did it for him, a dazed look on her face.

She drank deeply, draining the vessel, and the world itself seemed to shift, lines of color appearing at the periphery of her vision. They seemed to dance, but when she turned to look, they weren't there, replaced instead with the now still now swirling room. She felt like she was swimming at the bottom of a pool, somehow able to breathe, as the air no longer seemed like air, what with all the pretty things floating in it. Her eyes tracked the impossible objects, until she again caught Justice's gaze. He too had changed, and her mind struggled with the image. His body seemed to be two things at once, and her eyes perceived it as such, both Anders and something else, a shining transparent being of light and smoke. The two images blurred into each other and overlapped, pulsing and wavering. She was afraid, the unreality of this experience starting to get to her.

"Do not be frightened. It is I." he said, leaning over her and taking the now empty cup. "You are merely seeing things as they truly are." He was overwhelmed with the draw he felt toward her, the intense urge to be close to her. At this rate, they would never make it to the Fade.

"Justice?" she asked. The two forms nodded in answer, and climbed into bed atop her. She felt a hand covering her eyes, and then the press of his lips against hers, before her fears dissipated into the darkness of sleep.

It was almost a simple thing to send her to the Fade, the lyrium within bringing her halfway there. A light spell of the sort Anders used to put patients to sleep was all it took. The harder part would be following her. He could only trust that the tether he could now feel between the two of them would do its job well. Kissing her mouth with its faint taste of lyrium had him hard and longing to be inside her. He had to struggle to merely lie beside her, to hold her and not partake of her. 

He began to shape the spell for sleep again, clinging to the link between them, until the real faded away, and he again felt the touch of home.


	9. Split into Three

'Pain' would be too strong a word for how he felt, but 'discomfort' was a bit lacking. They were still the same person, and they were standing face to face. He could feel the ground beneath Justice's feet, see through two sets of eyes at once, and when the spirit spoke he struggled to keep from mouthing the words. It felt so wrong, so confusing. He reached out and tried to touch the other form in front of him, but his hand was drawn inside. That felt right.

"No, not in that way." said Justice, and pulled them apart again. "Let me show you."

His own hand then reached out hold his hand, and it was different somehow. He felt the touch on both bodies however, and the sheer oddness of the sensation furrowed his brow.

"You must see yourself as separate from me. It is an illusion, but it is your belief in it that shall make it real in this place."

Again there was the desire to say the words as well, but Anders just nodded. He didn't trust himself with speech yet. He closed his eyes, still seeing through Justice's shining ones, and tried to remember himself. He was Anders; that was his name. The one that touched him was not a part of him, but a friend. The image of him standing there, eyes shut in concentration slowly faded away to black, and he felt the touch of _someone else_ move up his arm.

"Yes. Like that." said Justice.

Anders opened his eyes, and saw his own face staring back at him, or rather, the spirit wearing his face, and plated armor that seemed to only halfway exist, somewhere between solid and smoke. They stood too close, just like back in Amaranthine when things were new and Justice hadn't yet grasped the concept of personal space. And yet, a part of him wanted nothing more than to get even closer, to melt together until they were one again -- comfortable again.

He looked around and found that they stood on a high white cliff, with ocean waves crashing below and salt scented breeze in the air. A small marble structure, the stones obviously quarried from some distant mountain stood here, with steps and a path leading to it. It seemed a bit ironic to Anders, but traveling across the Veil must have given Justice quite the lesson in creating dreams. The only tell that this wasn't real was himself, and the smoke-clad burning spirit in front of him.

"Just tell me something. Why her? Why now?" Anders said, trying to remember all the things he'd meant to say, the fears, all the little resentments. But it was hard now, when he stood here, pressed up against the will of Justice to think them into being. It's not as though it was the spirit's fault exactly. Anders had asked for this, all of it. And though he knew where their path would lead, it was pointless to complain. The only sticking point was her, and it had been from the beginning.

"I love her. I would see her happy now, because she does not deserve what we will do to her later. And we will. More than seeing her happy, I would see her free." Blue eyes blazed fiercely with that last word, punctuating the stillness of this peaceful place. "Whatever is hers to ask I shall give, and she asked for me." Justice could see the sadness falling over the other man's face. Something he'd said wasn't right. "Did she not ask for you as well?"

Justice was at a loss, as Anders just sighed, and nodded. Even being... a guest of one for as many years had not prepared him for the ways of mortals. What else should one do to show they cared for another? And that was what they both wanted of him now. Perhaps...

"She is not the only one that I love, Anders." The voice of the spirit echoed in the air, turning Anders' blood to ice. He looked up, just as the others' gauntleted hand came up to clench in his hair, and lips came crashing into his. A momentary gut reaction of shock was followed by the sheer strangeness of kissing one's own mouth, until this too gave way to the driving need for closeness. When he began to kiss back, open mouthed and heavy, he wrapped his arms around Justice, pulling them together. The desperation inherent in the two, not having been even symbolically apart in years wrenched panting moans from them in unison, as they passed the time in embrace, for what little time even meant here. Eventually, wretchedly, Justice pulled away, catching a breath though there was no real need to breathe. It was a mortal habit.

"She will be here soon. I can feel her." said Justice, and pressed his lips to Anders' again.

As if summoned by his words, a door appeared in the landscape, and opened slowly, cautiously. It was Marian, and as she peeked beyond the doorframe, she caught sight of them entangled, and didn't really care if the grin that then grew on her face was too stupid-looking. This had been one of the best ideas ever.

She stepped through the door to the dream, and barely paid attention as it dissipated, leaving nothing behind. She was as naked as she had been when put to sleep and sent to find them, but noted that they were not. The one that was obviously Justice wore strange armor, like frosted glass. He had been a warrior then? And Anders wore robes she'd never seen before, green and silken and fine. She almost didn't want to interrupt them, but it seemed they didn't notice her, nor would, too wrapped up in each other to see.

"May I join you?" she asked, walking toward them. In the air between her and Justice, there was a kind of rippling as she approached, and she had the distinct impression of being pulled along. When they broke apart and turned to look at her, it was almost as if she were looking down a mirror were it not for Justice's glow, so alike in movement they were.

"So you have come." Justice's deep voice echoed in the air, and somehow it felt real, like she was hearing it with ears and not just as a voice in her head.

"We've been waiting for you." Anders said, and smiled at her, eyes roving over her body. Stepping away from Justice was so _wrong_ , especially after the spirit's surprising admission, but if he was going to have to be so damned uncomfortable, at least he had something nice to look at.

"Waiting? Seemed to me like you were getting started without me," she said and smirked. "Not that I mind." She made her way to them, and ran her hands across Anders' silk clad chest.

Justice made his way behind her, and lifted her hair from the back of her neck. His sigil still burned there from their first night together, and at his touch it lit again. She gasped aloud, letting her head fall back as tendrils of glowing power stretched out from the sigil and wound their way around. When he was finished, she was collared by a ring of swirling bluish glow, bound in back by the shifting symbols of justice. He leashed her then, making a physical representation of their connection using the Fade's never ceasing gift of creation.

Here in this place, connected as they were, her mind was as an open book to Justice, and reading her was effortless as breathing. He knew that seeing them kiss had her excited and hot with lust. He tugged at the leash until her ear was next to his mouth. "It is not for you to have an opinion," he said at a near whisper. "I should have you watch us first."

She made a little wanting groan and looked to Anders, who stepped closer, pressing that luxurious silk to her breasts, making her feel pinned between them. He looked into her eyes and smirked, before looking over her shoulder and leaning in to catch Justice's lips again. His robe served to hide little, she thought, as she could feel the slow stiffening of his cock against her hip.

Reality shifted then, but it seemed normal, expected even. And now she was kneeling at the base of a long, white, padded table, rising about foot out of the floor of the marble pavilion they were now inside. She reached up to her neck, feeling out her new gift. And on the table, her lovers were busying themselves with the removal of Justice's armor. As each piece was removed, it became the smoke it seemed to be made out of, and swirled off into the air.

She watched them from her seat for a while, silent save for breaths that came faster with each new exposure of lit skin. Justice still gripped her leash, but they were focused entirely on the other, eyes locked save for the moments when they'd give in and press together again. She hadn't expected this; it came as a bit of a shock that they'd be so... eager. Although not entirely unwelcome, she had the thought that this must be they way they felt all the time (or at least the one of them that was left on the sidelines) to have to watch this and not be involved. It was, to put it mildly, intensely frustrating.

She bit her lip and snaked a hand in between her legs, slipping her slim fingers into the wetness there. But as soon as she had found her little nub and began to stroke it, Justice turned his face to her and reached out his hand. The gauntlet he wore flung off, stretched, and wrapped itself around her wrist. What looked like it should weigh nothing at all felt as heavy and strong as steel as her hand was wrenched back behind her.

"I said that I would have you watch, not touch." said Justice, filling her with sudden heat. The ghostly steel then wrapped itself around her other wrist, binding her arms in back. He then turned his attention back to Anders, and began peeling away green silk. She burned with want, and couldn't sate it. Somehow, that just made the fire within fiercer.

"Are you sure that's entirely fair?" said Anders, smirking at her as his robe was slipped off, exposing his erection. "The poor thing looks ready to burst."

"She will manage." came the spirit's _cruel_ response. She could feel the slickness begin to collect between her folds.

Marian watched with bite-swollen lips as a very focused Anders removed the last of Justice's armor, and the two came together again. It was as if they couldn't touch one another quite enough, their bodies clinging and intertwining. They seemed content to simply press together in silence, until Anders reached down to grasp his partner's thickened shaft. She heard Justice's deep, graveled moan then, and strained against her shackles. Why couldn't _she_ be the one doing that to him?

"You like that," said Anders. His words weren't questioning, just a bit surprised. But why should he be? It shouldn't come as such a shock that he could feel how much his spirit half was enjoying this. Perhaps it was Justice's doing, in not placing a barrier between them for this particular sensation. If so, Maker bless him. He knew just what he wanted to share, too.

"Indeed," said Justice, pausing from mouthing Anders' neck. He turned a glance toward Marian, whose thoughts were full of wanting, and reveled in the sight of her body betraying those thoughts with a flushed face and taut nipples. He wanted them. And her. Her eyes grew wider, and she bit that reddened lip again, and then he could feel Anders' mouth closing around his cock with sudden wet heat.

"Anders..." Justice's voice strained with tension, and he gripped the table, wanting nothing more than to _be inside Anders_ again. This was as close as could be allowed now, and it was maddening, even as the bodily pleasure echoed between them.

Justice tugged on her leash and said "Bring your body to me, mortal." His bright blue eyes still focused on her, even as Anders took him deep into his throat. She seemed to break out of a trance, and moved to where she was kneeling within reach. The spirit then leaned to her and began to suckle her breast in between deep groans of pleasure.

She gasped with the touch of his lips, but his teeth biting and pulling at her nipple had her keening aloud along with his possessive growling. She didn't think she'd ever been this turned on before. It almost hurt how much she wanted to be touched.

"Please... touch me. This isn't fair," she said, pleading.

"You are correct," he said breathlessly as he thrust into Anders mouth. "It is not."

\--------

Suddenly, jarringly, Anders was sitting with his legs spread on the table, body aching from the feeling of being torn away from Justice and the pleasure he'd wrung from his own lips. She knelt over him, lips so close to that he could feel her breath on the head of his swollen prick. With her arms chained, she was being held by Justice, and slowly being led downward.

"Let him into your mouth," the spirit said, as if she had a choice. "Do this well and I will touch you."

Eagerly, she reached out her tongue to lick at the head, all she could reach. Then, he lowered her down, and down again, until the weight of her own body and Justice's gentle pushing forced Anders' cock between her lips and down her throat. The spirit then kneeled behind her, prodding her wet entrance with his member, until he found his target, and slid inside agonizingly slowly. She groaned around Anders in her mouth, relishing the feeling of being so full -- so thoroughly used by both of her lovers.

"Flaming Andraste, Justice!" Anders couldn't believe how good this felt, to share between them the tightness of her cunt and her wicked, writhing tongue all at once. He could feel the spirit thrust hard into to her, which in turn pushed her harder against him, forcing his cock deeper into her mouth. When had _Justice_ become so good at this? The spirit of all 'people'... The same one that acted completely oblivious at Oghren's taunts was now fucking his girlfriend, and it felt too amazing for him to care.

Justice couldn't help but speed up the pace at which he thrust, despite how close it was bringing him. But more intense even than the friction and tightness of being inside her _twice_ was the flood of emotion and sensation spilling out of their mortal minds. He could see it, touch it, consume it, and in this place, it was vibrant as sunlight. What would it look like when she came, shuddering and heavy? Would he feast upon her climax like some depraved Desire? And how _good_ she tasted! He knew why the demons did this now, not that he had ever dreamed of wanting to know. A growl passed his cracked lips, and he thrust into her with fierce viciousness.

Every time she tried to come up for air, spirit hands firmly gripped her hair and pushed her down again. She felt like she was going to choke -- would certainly be gagging and coughing around Anders' thick flesh if it weren't for the unreality of the Fade. There was no need to breathe in dreams. But the imagined need to gasp for air, the lack of control, her utter _helplessness_ as she strained at her bindings was throwing her into another state of mind entirely. If this was the Fade, if this wasn't real, it hardly seemed to matter. The only thoughts she could process were those of blind pleasure and panic, the mix of primal emotion blotting out everything else. She felt herself tense, body heat rushing through her from the center out.

Anders heard Justice roaring before he opened his eyes and the sight of her pleasure struck him, fragments of spirit senses finding their way through to his view. Maker, she was beautiful. It was the only thought he had left. Her throat had been clenched around him, fluttering, and now she was letting out a muffled scream, the vibrations humming through him and causing his own gasping cry. He could swear he could almost taste her in the air, honey sweet in his opened mouth. But then, hers suddenly wasn't on him anymore. Justice held her by the neck, lifting her head with that leash.

Anders tried to calm himself and control his heavy breath. Obviously the spirit had something else in mind, but whatever that was, he wasn't privy to it. It was so strange after years of knowing everything.

"What's the matter? Tire of her cunt so soon, Justice?" Anders asked, with no small amount of effort, trying to hide the sarcastic bite, the _why did you stop?_ in his voice.

The spirit's ethereal eyes pierced him, as if to say _absolutely not_. Instead, he pulled her neck up to his mouth, to suck and bite. "No," he said next to her wild pulse. "I wish to share her heat with you." His mouth reclaimed its hold on the crook of her neck, as he repositioned himself, taking his cock in hand to guide it into the deep cleft of her ass.

She choked out a surprised cry, and looked to Anders, worried. She had, of course, thought of this very thing, but every time she'd tried it before had taken preparation and gentle stretching, and even then it wasn't exactly comfortable.

Anders stroked her face calmingly, trying to remove the wicked grin that had passed over his face at Justice's words. The spirit had _definitely_ gotten good at this. It must have been his influence -- one good thing to come of their ill-advised union. "Just relax," he told her, as if that were possible. "I'll take away the pain, just relax."

She could feel the tingling coolness of a healing spell, and found herself unwinding in spite of the anxiousness within.

"Trust me. In the Circle, we never did get to take our time and do this right," Anders said, low and soft. "I got to be very good at it."

"Look him in the eye, and give him your thanks as I penetrate you, mortal," Justice whispered in her ear. He then pushed against her tight pucker, and with the spell's assistance, the rings of muscle opened to his advance, the head of his cock entering her with a stuttering slide.

"Ah! Uhnn... Thank you," she said, wide eyes locked to Anders', struggling to mouth the words with her mind so preoccupied. It felt surprisingly painless. Maybe it was the fact that this was a dream, or maybe it was the spell, but the harsh intrusion barely hurt at all. She just felt full and stretched, and then fuller still when he pressed all the way inside her.

"That's it. Doesn't it feel good? It'll feel even better with us both in you," said Anders, who looked to Justice with a smirk. _You kinky bastard_ he thought, hoping the other could hear it. He could certainly sense some sparse connecting threads of thought passing between them, most notably in how he now felt her tight ass constricting around Justice's cock.

Justice leaned back on the table, taking her down with him, laying her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair while gently rocking his hips up and down, feeling the occasional jerk of tight muscle around his length when she failed to keep control. Anders followed them close behind, placing himself between their spread legs.

"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?"

Her response rang out in a needy moan, as she tried to say her 'yes' and failed. Her head tilted back, she felt Justice's teeth at her neck, and then the friction of Anders thrust, the two of them joining inside of her, rubbing against one another in the wet heat of her body. Arms locked behind her, she was trapped, pressed between flesh and sweat and need, and the hot tension within began to stir again.

Anders could hardly believe how this felt, to be inside her, and next to _him_. They were held apart only by her, and they had danced on the knife's edge of separation for so long now that it left him desperate and clinging. It was like he was fucking Justice through her. That thought spurred on a wild fury, seeking the blue flames of his eyes as much as the fire within her. And she, collared with his light, prone in his arms, being filled by him twice over... He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her gasping mouth, and entwined his fingers with another's. It was getting harder now to remember that that other was someone else.

"Not.. yet.." Justice's strained voice echoed on smooth marble, and he tried again to put up walls against the flood of Anders, when his other half came terribly close. The self-control was hard to come by, with the liquid texture of pleasure rising in the air, so vibrant in this place that was made of such immaterial things. He tasted it when he tasted her, his tongue healing the red welts scratched into her by his teeth. All the while, his slow thrusts pressed against Anders' increasingly violent ones.

"Please!" she yelped in response, panicked. She thought he was ordering her not to come, not yet. And so she tried to hold back, tried to keep herself at that pinnacle of tautness without letting her body have its way and snap. She could feel her will slipping, every slick slap of their skin on hers bringing her closer to an end that was being denied. Justice then pulled on her leash, dragging her ear to his mouth. "Now."

Her lithe form arced between them when she let his voice command her body once more, and it shook with the force of her stifled responses. Shuddering muscles gripped the two within her until they too added their own ecstasy to the Fade in unison. Their shout rang out, as two voices seeming to come from the same throat, and she felt their cocks pulse inside her, spilling their seed. Keeping the dream in shape was far more difficult now, so filled Justice was with other concerns. The Fade began to shift around them, not that they were capable of noticing. But the carefully crafted landscape slowly fell away, first the sea and the sky, and then the rest, until all that was left was a bit of table and floor that swirled off into nothingness.

And she was gone.


	10. Coming Together Again

"What happened? Where is she?" Anders said, his voice tinged with worry. He was the first to look around, to notice how the world had disappeared, replaced with a kind of shifting nothing, as if their scene had been paint now wiped away from its blank canvas.

Justice just lazily opened his eyes and said, "She awoke."

"It is better for her to have left first," he continued. "There are demons here that lie waiting for me to be gone so that they might feast. They can sense the... emotion that we poured into the Fade and want it for themselves." He sighed and closed his eyes again, relaxing back onto the bit of table, feeling the breath of the Fade dry his sweat slicked skin.

"So, you're saying that all this while, we've been watched by demons?" Anders said, his face growing even more worried. "Isn't that dangerous? Not to mention a bit creepy..." He unconsciously wormed his way closer to the other's reclining form, his mind still bent on the union that had yet to take place.

"They would not dare to attack me in my own dream. I would crush them. And I would relish it." A vicious smile crossed his face at that remark. He reached over to Anders, pulling him closer to lie next to his chest. It occurred to Anders that the spirit had yet to learn the fine art of matching actions to words, but still the closeness was appreciated. And if the demons wanted to watch, why not give them a show to envy?

"We should tell her," said Justice. That suddenly, the calm atmosphere was shattered.

"Tell her what? That you like crushing demons?" Anders said, trying to defuse the situation with humor. "I think she knows that."

"We should tell her our plans, all of them," he responded, firmly. "She trusts us -- trusts me. I will not abuse that gift."

A rush of anxieties few through Anders' brain. These scenarios had run through his head enough times in the past few months that he'd felt the matter settled. He wouldn't risk her life for his own crusade. The worst possible outcome, the one where she stood in his way, still haunted him.

"Are you insane? Don't answer that... Justice, what if she says no?"

"She will not." His hands reached up to stroke Anders' golden hair.

"Mortals aren't like spirits. Just because she's supported us in the past doesn't mean she'll support us in everything!" He looked into the swirling light of his own eyes, like looking into a strange mirror. "Tell me, what would you do to her if she stood between us and our goals?"

"I know what you fear. I would never harm her." It was an old fear, one born on the same night they joined. They shared that sting of the blinding anger that was no longer so righteous and pure and worthy of trust. Justice tried to imagine her denial, her refusal to allow justice to be done, but instead of anger, there was only the pain of loss.

"Can you promise that? You? Remember, I know you. Rather well, in fact." Anders backed away, despite the discomfort. This was turning bad quickly.

"I have already promised mercy to her." But there were other oaths to fulfill, older ones. "I made you a promise once as well. You bade me promise to be your strength, so that you would never falter. I promised _you_ vengeance. And you shall have it."

Another thought came to Anders then, of what would come after. It was something Justice rarely considered, as he focused entirely on the act of delivering justice, not facing it himself. What would he be forced to do to her if she helped them? Would he slit her throat before plunging the knife into his own heart? He couldn't be certain what the cost of his vengeance would be. "And if she says yes? If she follows us down that path --"

"She will not face justice for that choice by my hand, though I cannot say what danger she will face. Enough of this! I give you my word."

"I just wish I could trust you. I wish I could trust us..."

Justice's face fell. There was nothing he could say to make this right again. "Trust that you will know my fervor. Before the end, you will know my strength, and taste the triumph I will bring you." The spirit took Anders' head in his hands, to drag his eyes up to his own. "Do not hate me for what I must do."

"I don't, you know."

"Do not hate yourself either."

"Easier said than done," Anders said, with a sad smile.

"I know." Justice's form shifted then, aware of Anders' bit of discomfort at holding his own body. He had only really taken Anders' shape because it was comfortable, and because she would expect him to appear that way. But now, it served no useful purpose. Instead, he took the form he had that night they first drew breath together. When he had left the corpse that had carried him, what remained to be seen was made of pale blue flames in the shape of a man, eyes shining within like twin suns. He still remembered Anders' wide eyes, with the look of one who had come to the conclusion that perhaps he was in over his head. He remembered the trust given then, and how it was shattered in blood and fire and pain. "Allow me to make a new memory for you."

Anders could feel the change through his skin more than anything else. He was no longer touching flesh, but rather the raw essence of Justice, in all its terrible glory. It brought back memories of the night he wanted only to forget. The rather unique experience of joining together had been tainted, and now it was hard to think of much else of it other than coming to with the taste of blood in his mouth, and the retching that followed. Still, he remembered what it felt like to touch Justice for the first time, to feel the spirit's power filling him like he were some cracked and empty vessel. He thought back to when he'd first felt wonder at being alive and had realized where that feeling came from. No, it hadn't been all bad. He tried to think of these things as his lips touched the pure energy of the spirit's, and soon found himself lost again, wanting nothing more than to drink in that power once more.

The first time, Justice would not have thought to mingle sex and possession so directly. Before, sex was just a concept, one more strange thing that mortals did that he couldn't fathom. But now, firsthand experience had taught him that the two were not so different, the meshing of bodies quite analogous to the meshing of souls. And as their forms pressed together, he began to feel the stirring of Anders' desire.

"You want me inside you," he stated as he broke their kiss.

"More than anything. I feel empty," Anders responded, almost pained.

"Then let me fill you."

"Yes... please..." came his pleading response, as he felt the first wave of cold, tingling energy flow over his skin, and then into him, becoming him. It wrapped around him, closer than an embrace, settling in once more, filling in the gaps. And then, after he gasped in the sheer relief this small intrusion brought, the spirit grasped his hardening cock and caused another. He shifted his hips, trying to gain some friction.

"You want more," Justice said, the deep rumbling voice partly seeming to come from both of them.

"Justice, please!" Anders could hear an echo in his voice, and wondered if he was talking in his sleep, with the ragged edges of the dream letting the real world leak in. If so, Marian would understand, she had to. His wandering thoughts were stopped abruptly by another surging of power from where the spirit gripped him, sliding over his skin with a lover's touch, and then into him again, stroking him from within and without, focusing intensely on those nerves that left him shaking: lips, neck, nipples, the underside of his cock and that bundle of tissue just inside his ass that the Maker had seen fit to bless men with. He shut his eyes and screamed, feeling as though his skin had been set alight with cold fire -- feeling alive.

 

Justice paled and thinned as the walls between them crumbled more and more with each attack, becoming again unsure of where the one ended and the other began. It was harder and harder to hold back, as Anders' ecstatic need to be one again amplified his own into an unstoppable calling. With one last caress, he broke down his own carefully constructed defenses entirely, their half-entwined half-merged bodies melting into one another.

\-------------------

They were thrashing in bed with even more intensity now than when the nightmares came, and the sounds coming from them were almost frightening. If she hadn't been fairly sure what was going on, she would have tried a splash of water and a good shake. But no, interrupting this probably wasn't the best of ideas. She just stayed away from the twitching limbs, and tried to imagine what must be causing the moaning, begging, and muffled screams. Glowing cracks raced across Anders' skin every now and then, and little arcs of static twitched his parted lips.

Their awakening interrupted a strung-together line of babble, some words in Justice's low echoes, others in Anders', the light of their opening eyes turning the dark room blue.

"Hey, there you are," she said and smiled. "I thought perhaps you'd gotten lost."

They lay there, mouth open, staring at the ceiling for a while until their breathing slowed and they were again capable of speech. 

"Not lost," came their breathless reply in both voices. They looked at her with half-lidded eyes, and simply said, "I love you." Justice retreated then, leaving Anders with the spirit's regret. That might be the last time they'd have the opportunity to let her know.

"I know you do. Both of you." She gathered Anders in her arms and put her head on his chest, to rise and fall along with his breaths. "I just want you to know, I'll carry the memory of tonight to my _grave_ , it was so good."

"So will we," he said, voice cracking.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's just... He made it feel like being possessed again -- like the first time. It's taking some getting used to." A little half-truth never hurt anyone, he thought, until Justice made his displeasure known. 

She grinned wide remembering the muttered pleading. "Was it good for you?"

"More than you could possibly know." the spirit within was happy about that, he could tell. "Listen, tomorrow, I need you to meet me at the clinic. I have a favor to ask. Two, actually."

"You can't ask me now? I'm in a pretty good mood. Might be your best chance."

No. Telling her right now would just start a fight. He shut his eyes and thought to himself _just one more night_ hoping Justice heard him and understood.

"Tomorrow. I need to get _some_ sleep. It's not every night one goes through _that_ you know." He combed her hair with his fingers, laying out the strands on his chest.

They'd tell her their secrets tomorrow, and hold her tonight. If it had to be the last night, at least it had been a memorable one.


End file.
